Worst Possible Moment
by ScreamingInsanity
Summary: When one of the ducklings is acting perculiar, House puts it upon himself to look into it, only to discover something that is bound to change all of their lives. [?Chase SLASH, MPREG]
1. Chapter 1

Title: Chapter 1  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Non yet  
Warning: AU, MPREG  
Summary: The other doctors at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital are about to discover something different about one of there own.

House walked into the conference room a little too chipper for the hour of the morning. He moved as someone who might have had a bit too much coffee during one sitting.

"Good morning," House greeted his ducklings. His usual sarcastic enthusiasm in tack. Today, it only seemed to make Chase frustrated, and a little bit queasy. From his position of leaning against the sink, he watched as House limped over to the white board. How could someone, who was so against the world, sound like they should be leading a Catholic retreat group for pre-teens? Chase was half-tempted to stick out his foot to knock out the cane, and watch House humiliate himself by falling to the floor. Chase realized it might not have been the kindest of ideas, but House was not the kindest of people, and today was not the kindest of days.

Uncapping the marker, House turned to the board and started to write and read aloud. "Male. Symptoms are: stomach cramps, back pains, fatigue, nausea, headaches, lose of weight, frequent urination." House turned back to the others with a sly grin. "What's the diagnosis?"

"We need more information." Foreman concluded. "Where is he getting these headaches? How often? What's causing his fatigue?"

"Exactly where are the stomach and back pains?" Cameron added. "Is he urinating from a stimulant, or is he having problems holding it in? Is he getting nauseated after eating, or from being active?"

"Oh, he's been _very_ active," House grinned, then turned his gaze to the young intensivist. Chase's brow was furrowed in thought, gnawing on his lip for lack of anything else to chew on.

"Muscle pain, anemia, weight lose," Chase mumbled to himself. Then he glanced up to find the others staring at him. "Lupus?"

"There's no rash," Cameron interjected.

Foreman leaned back in his chair. "Doesn't mean it can't be SLE. There's no rash in SLE."

The three simultaneously turned to watch House to see what his reaction was. He is the Head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine, after all. House smiled broadly, which was never a good sign. "Very good. But, WRONG!"

"What do you mean 'wrong'?" Foreman demanded. "It's the fitting diagnosis. The only other thing would be cancer, but how is it possible to have that many different types of cancer all at once?"

"There is one more thing it could be." House sing-songed. He underlined 'fatigue, nausea, stomach pain, and weight-loss'. "What are these the first stages of? Come on, now, children!"

"Pregnancy." Cameron murmured.

"By Jove, I think he's got it." House said in a British accent, glancing at Chase, but turned towards Cameron. He took a seat, and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

"Pregnancy?" Foreman asked incredulously. "There's only been a handful of cases of male-pregnancy. This would be about the strangest thing to have walked into the hospital. Let alone New Jersey."

"Ah, but it's been walking into the hospital for at least a month and a half now. Hasn't it, Dr. Chase?"

--tbc--

Feedback is cherries.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Chapter 2  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Non yet  
Warning: AU, MPREG  
Summary: The other doctors at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital are about to discover something different about one of there own.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed in such short of time, and I recieved a question about this posted at LJ, and yes, this is posted on houseslash as well, this is more permanent, and easier to locate. It'll incourage me to update more quickly. I will continue to post on LJ. Fourth chapter is almost done.

On with the fic...

* * *

Chase didn't really know what happened between House's statement, and him sitting on the floor of bathroom. Yes, he had been nauseous again, but he was just so upset. He didn't know if that's what triggered it, or the smell of coffee from the pot that was beside him in the conference room. All he knew was that he had been betrayed. He wondered if that was to teach him a lesson from betraying House.

Wilson liked House far more than he liked Chase, but would Wilson really go that far to avenge his friend? In his dismay, he didn't think that House may have read through his file.

He found him in the clinic. He was sitting in an exam room with a patient. Chase had no qualms about waiting, so he stood, hidden, outside the door, ignoring the stares he was receiving from some of the nurses. After about five minutes, the door finally opened, and Wilson was met face to face with a very angry wallaby. Wilson quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look." Chase snapped. "I know you know that House knows." He crossed his arms. Wilson sighed, and motioned Chase to follow him into the now empty exam room.

"You know how House is." Wilson started, as he sat on one of the chairs. "He'll prod and annoy until he's gotten what he wants. He asked me, but I wouldn't tell him." Chase glared at that. Apparently, he thought it was a lie. "I swear. I saw a nurse handing him a file. I guess, now, it's safe to assume it was yours."

Chase glared menacingly, and stormed out of the room, heading to Exam Room 2. A place House liked to go, and the fleeing nurses Chase passed didn't dare question or disrupt him. He stopped in front of the door, and took a deep breath. He was going to be calm about this.

The door bounced off the plaster, white wall with a resounding bang. House could have sworn the fires of Hell burned behind the young intensivist's eyes, if he hadn't already been to Hell and back.

"What the hell did you think you were doing going through my medical files?" Not well thought out, Chase realized, but he couldn't, and wouldn't, control the anger he felt for his boss.

House shut off his iPod: Eveline by Nickel Creek. He's not one for country-western music, but the song had a psychedelic feel to it. Barely giving Chase a second glance, He walked out, and down the hallway, making his way towards the elevator.

Chase quickly followed after him, and cut him off in the front foyer. "Tell me why you did it." He said menacingly. "Tell me why you couldn't just take no for an answer, and leave it alone."

"What, Robert? Are you feeling...betrayed?" House's voice held no humor, and Chase stopped in his tracks. House walked past him, without looking back.

--tbc--


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Worst Possible Moment (Chapter 3)  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Non yet  
Warning: AU, MPREG  
Summary: The other doctors at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital are about to discover something different about one of there own.

* * *

There was a throbbing pain behind Chase's eyes by the time he sat down for lunch. He had successfully kept his anger in check for the remainder of the morning. It was an unusually slow day. Most of their patients were recuperating nicely. If only people would continue to leave him alone.

Usually, he would go off of the premises for lunch to redeem some form of peace, and a break from the noise and bustle that is continuously surrounding him in the hospital. But, now, with his lack of appetite, and headache, all he wanted was a moment to sit, and relax until he had to go back. That's why he was sitting outside in the crisp October air. Finally, they had a break from the rain, and Chase could enjoy the nature around him.

Times like these, he tended to suffer from brief feelings of nostalgia. When he's feel like actually going back home, and seeing his old friends, and visit his mother's grave again. To hear the rusting organ of his childhood church. To not feel so damp all the time. He wanted to roll his eyes at the obnoxious laugh of the little girl next door, and the whoosh of the net as the boys in the neighbor hood played football in the empty street. Not football...soccer. Things were different back in Australia.

The sound of a cola bottle opening brought Chase out of thought. Blinking a few times, he looked over to find Foreman staring at him. The Australian quirked an eyebrow, but kept quiet. He wasn't planning on making anymore enemies in his lifetime. But, then, Foreman was placing a bagel in front of him, and he felt his stomach growl. Staring at it wearily, he unwrapped it from the saran-wrap that it had been preserved in, and ripped off a piece, putting it in his mouth.

"Thanks." He said softly.

"So," Foreman started off carefully. "You're pregnant?" He watched the slight blush appear on Chase's cheek bones, and the sad smirk that appeared on his face. "How far along?"

"Three months." Chase stated simply, chewing on the bit of bagel in his mouth. "I've only known for half that time. I was hoping to keep it a secret for as long as I could, but it seems that things just keep getting shittier." He gave a wry chuckle, and tore a little more forcefully into his lunch.

Foreman swallowed his bit of sandwich and a sip of soda, and watched the expressions Chase let lose through his eyes. "Why did you go to Wilson if you thought House would find out?"

Chase left half of his meal sitting in the wrapping, and leaned back. Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he sighed. "Wilson had access to an ultra-sound. I knew he had semi-good values. I thought it would remain a secret until I had time to organize myself a bit more. To get used to the idea of having a kid."

Watching as Chase took deep breathes to calm himself, the Neurologist couldn't believe how out of sorts the Australian was, how unsure and depressed he looked at the moment. He seemed about to explode.

Headaches were never welcoming assets to emotional conversations. Though, Chase couldn't help noticing most of his conversations had invoked strong emotions lately. Rage, happiness, rage, depression, queasiness, depression, rage...Part of him wanted it to stop. He wanted to wake up, and find out that this was an extremely realistic nightmare.

He rubbed at his temples, and closed his eyes. "Two out of five male pregnancies end in miscarriage or still borns. Some offspring don't make it past there first few months on account of weak immune systems. I-I-," 'NO! I am NOT going to cry!' But, then the first tear came, then the second, then the third until they ran into each other, and he couldn't stop shaking. He bowed his head to hide behind his bangs. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose it."

Foreman looked on sympathetically. He knew his colleague would never appreciate it, but he felt sorry for him. He had seen stronger people break down under this type of pressure. But, then a thought came to his mind. "Where's the father?"

Chase let out a shaky breathe. "I don't know."

--tbc--


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: In an effort to complete this story, and make it a decent length, I'm going to post every Friday at 8:00am EST. If I fail to do this, even if its 8:01, and there is no story posted yet, I give you permission to spam my yahoo inbox personally. The user name is lost_sheep_03, and it is at yahoo. I don't think they will allow me to post an e-mail address, but you are all intelligent. I feel horrible for letting it slip for so many years. But that just means that I have a better grasp at grammar, ha ha. Also keep in mind that I'm too impatient to recruit a beta. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

The smell of cheese, meat, and garlic wafted into the hallway to great House as he opened the door to his apartment. He recognized it as the ziti Chase usually made when the three of them enjoyed the rare pleasure of all having off the next day. If anyone would ask, House would deny the feeling of disappointment that overcame him when he observed Wilson frantically following Chase's chicken scratch of a recipe.

It was clearly visible that Wilson was ready to pull his hair out. It wasn't the same without Chase. They weren't whole without the young intensivist. Their dynamic was clearly out of whack, and it was visible on Wilson's face like a tattoo. House was disgusted by what had happened. Chase always insisted on using protection with them for this very reason. Well, okay, maybe it was House's insistence. He didn't care to have a mini him wandering around.

House made it to the couch, wanting to enjoy the time he finally had to analyze the situation. It all seemed to start while Wilson was secretly meeting with an ex-wife. House remembers the accusations of Wilson continuing a relationship with the wench. House had found himself at the bar most nights. Chase never wanted to witness House getting shit-faced. Probably due to bad memories. Then he paused, brow furrowed. Chase had found him with a woman who may or may not have been a prostitute. Nothing came of it, but Chase had disappeared from that point forward. Chase had returned to his own apartment.

"Its not as good as he makes it," Wilson murmured as he came out with plates for each of them. "He never really measured anything out, and I couldn't get it to taste the same."

Wilson watched as House got up, and went into the kitchen. The sound of bottles clinking drifted into the living room, and Wilson new House was going through the liquor cabinet. His suspicions proved true when House returned with a bottle of Seagram's whiskey and two scotch glasses. Setting the glasses down, he poured them each a healthy helping, and looked down at Wilson meaningfully. "We can't let this go anymore. How are we going to fix this?"

Eyes nearly popping out of his head. "You actually want to talk about something? You're compulsive, you make rash decisions and hope for the best." Wilson took a long sip of the whiskey, ignoring the slight burning down his throat. Sighing, he rubbed at the back of his neck, and slowly peered at the other man. "You truly want to bring it up, and not wait until I corner you?"

House's own drink was almost gone. He rolled the cup in his hand thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure I royally fucked up. You were seeing an ex, and I had been drinking."

"I should have grown some balls, and just told you I was giving her a second opinion. Apparently she believed her oncologist was an idiot." Leaning back and taking another sip, Wilson emptied the glass. "You shouldn't have gone through my messages. I told you I was going to be away for a couple days."

"I shouldn't have pushed him away while you were gone."

* * *

Chase felt as if he wasted two years of his life pretending to be in a loving relationship with two complete opposites. Two men that he loved like he had never been able to before. They taught him to let go of his insecurities. Even House had treated him kindly for the most part. House would always be House, but at home, he was a little less bite. Home really wasn't the word for it anymore. Chase swore as tears filled his eyes. It was the hormones, he would swear.

The box in front of him was full of little, dumb things he had collected over those two years that he wanted to share with the other men. It had been sitting under his bed, and he had been drawn to it tonight. On the top was a stack of photos that Wilson, or himself, had quickly snapped at different occasions. His favorite was a picture of House and himself at a charity banquet leaning against the bar. House had a scotch on the rocks, and a cigar hanging from his sly smile. Chase was reclining back with his elbows on the counter, jacket off, tie loose, and laughing at what ever House had been saying. Some kind of Al Capone reference. Chase had gotten a quick snapshot of Wilson at a monster truck rally. He had a ridiculous trucker's hat on.

As Chase dug through the various, little momentous, many emotions filtered through his mind. As he neared the bottom, to a framed picture that once sat on his night stand, before being packed away. The three of them had been eating outside when the weather had become amiable. His face in the photo was of utter shock, as an unusually playful House leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He'd never seen House's face so full of love, and he was grateful that Wilson had captured the rare moment. Tears leaked from his eyes, and he felt his throat constrict with emotion.

The ring of Chase's cellphone interrupted him, and he cleared his throat. As he read the caller ID and answered the call, his face contorted with frustration. "You need to stop calling me."


End file.
